


The Truth Untold

by Cheol_Apple



Category: Mobile Legends: Bang Bang (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Feels, Gardens, Graude, Lightborn squad, M/M, Romance, light fluff, mild violence, walks, will add characters later - Freeform, will add tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheol_Apple/pseuds/Cheol_Apple
Summary: A thief and a Demon Hunter meet in a garden. One look was all it took for them. Now they're both curious to know what happens next...
Relationships: Claude/Granger (Mobile Legends: Bang Bang)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have to preface this that aside from the fact that it happens in a garden, almost nothing else is inspired by BTS's The Truth Untold lmao, though I did l listen to Produce48's version of it again and again and again while writing to get into the mood. I tried to retitle it, but nothing else seemed right.
> 
> i wasn't sure i wanted to post it for the longest time, since it was barely a songfic and i felt that i wasn't too good at writing neither Granger nor Claude (or any character ingame, apparently) at the time, but my beta reader forced me to post it before it got stale, bless her heart. so this is for you, you angst-loving, fluff-craving kid, i love you and i hope you don't tire yourself anymore~
> 
> Produce48's version of The Truth Untold:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tokZ36QZVZU

Antoinerei Gardens.

Claude's favorite hiding spot.

No one would think that a thief was hiding in the bushes and trellises of flowers that was carefully grown in the heart of the city. It was open to everyone, which meant that he could easily slip in. But the gardens closed at nine, which meant that he could slip in anyway and no one would notice.

That was where he was right now, a jacket carelessly crumpled underneath him so that he wouldn't feel cold from the concrete of the bench. He pulled the rucksack closer to him, the bag spilling with treasures from their daily haul.

"A wristwatch, this weird ass monocle... Oh! A golden crucifix. Wherever did you get this, Dexter?" Claude laughingly admonished his partner. The monkey only grinned at him back, before scampering back onto the thief's shoulder.

"Gold coins, gold earrings, more gold coins... and an apple? You're too kind, buddy." Claude pulled the fruit from the rucksack, taking a bite. This. This was the life—a job well done, a sweet, refreshing dinner, a garden all to himself—

The sound of a gun cocking brought him to his feet. Claude need only glance at Dexter for it to understand what to do next. The monkey ran into the bushes, trying to find the intruder. Apple in one hand, he quickly slung the rucksack onto his shoulder, preparing to open aim and fire—

"I wouldn't continue that, if I were you." If the cold click of a gun didn't give his presence away, that deep, husky voice did.

The apple fell to the ground. Claude sighed deeply. He should've known.

He spun around swiftly, hands gesturing in welcome. "Granger! How nice to see you this beautiful evening!"

Granger's hand didn't even waver. The gun was still squarely aimed at Claude's chest. "Claude. Didn't expect to see you in a place like... This."

The man said it with such derision that Claude couldn't ignore it in the carefree way that he always did. A small inkling of annoyance took root in his chest. Was he really that...bad not to be in a place as beautiful as this?

"Whatever you expected, I'm here anyways. Care to join my dinner?” Claude swiftly picked up the apple, mindful of how the gun followed him even as he leaned down. “Granted, it’s now a little dirty but—“

“You have in your possession a relic from a holy church.” Granger cut him off, voice resolute. “Hand it over, now.”

“Or what?” Claude asked meekly.

Granger looked at him evenly, red eyes meeting the umber ones evenly. Absentmindedly, Claude wondered how his eyes were that strange of a shade. But he didn’t miss the gun changing trajectory to the nearest clump of primroses. “Or your pet gets shot instead.” 

The inkling of annoyance turned into a full on flame. No one but Claude can shoot Dexter—and legally, he’s only allowed to miss. “Fine.” He dropped the apple—and the act—and reached for the pistol in his belt, faster than he bet Granger expected. “Only if you can catch me.”

There was a flash of light, and a hologram of a monkey now flashed brightly where Claude stood seconds ago.

“Damn!” Granger muttered, his head spinning every which way, trying to find the stubborn thief. One good thing about the hologram—it provided some semblance of light, letting Granger see his environment more clearly. To his far right, he heard a light rustling, and some of the trellises were shaking in a way that was too strange to be wind.

“You won’t get away this time,” Granger announced, before pursuing Claude.  
-  
“That was a little bit too close, bud,” Claude whispered to the monkey as they scaled the trellises covering the garden walls. Dexter hadn’t seen the confrontation, thankfully, as apparently, it took the scampering around too seriously. But he also couldn’t shake off the irritation he felt at Granger. Declaring him too criminal to be in a beautiful community garden, threatening to shoot his partner… if only Claude weren’t saving his and Dexter’s backs, he would’ve willingly shot the hunter first. It would have to wait though. First they had to scale the trellis, for the one escape hatch he and Dexter had fashioned when they were just starting out in Antoinerei.

Even in the darkness of the night, Claude had a pretty good awareness of his surroundings, and he knew the hatch was close by. There it was—only a few feet to the left. His face started contorting to a grin, they’d be out of here before they knew it—

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Dexter jumped to a nearby tree, unscathed, chattering in anxiety as the ivy in Claude’s hands peeled off and he fell to ground with a soft thud, the rucksack of valuables digging painfully into his side. His hands were scraped, his lower back and calves were on fire, and he was pretty sure his nose was bleeding. Vaguely, he realized that Granger didn’t miss—he had meant to shoot the vines the thief was holding on to. He wasn’t shooting at Claude himself. He almost felt a sense of gratitude towards the hunter. Almost.

All too quickly, Granger was towering over him, like a judge of the underworld. Only he doubted that the dead looked like this. That one silver streak in Granger’s hair caught the moonlight, giving it an otherworldly sparkle. His eyes were like pools of blood. For a wild, wild, second, Claude was curious of the face hiding underneath that ridiculously collared coat. The face of someone that was now going to kill him.

Claude realized his gun somehow broke off while he was falling. He was aware of Dexter watching from the treeline, clearly waiting for a moment to strike. Claude wanted his friend to wait—Granger was looking too volatile at the moment, and even if Dexter managed to distract the hunter somehow, there was still his aching body to contend with, which made escaping three hundred times harder than it was before.

He didn’t think his end would be this stupid, but at least it would happen in this one place that he loved.

He watched resolutely as the gun, still smoking from shooting at the ivy, focused on his face. A part of him wanted to close his eyes. Isn’t that what scared people do? But he forced his eyes open. He drifted his gaze towards Granger instead.

One second. Two. Three.

Claude counted twelve when the gun suddenly left his face. Granger tucked the weapon into a pocket of his guitar case. Claude didn’t even notice the guitar case.

The hunter’s demeanor seemed to have shifted. His shoulders hung—not exactly in defeat. More like in resignation. He held out a bandaged hand to Claude. Claude was suddenly conscious of the scrapes on his hands.

He took Granger’s hand and stood up, albeit slowly. Dexter quickly leapt from the tree, finding his way onto Claude’s shoulder once more. For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then—“Look, just give me the relic. And I—I won’t kill you.”

Claude, for once, was robbed of all his snark. He rummaged through the bag, pulling out the golden crucifix and handing it mutely to Granger. The hunter palmed it almost reverently, before slipping it into the guitar case as well. Then his eyes met Claude’s again. In them was a jumble of emotions Claude couldn’t read. 

“If you let me catch you doing that again…” Granger paused, seeming unsure of where his sentence was going. Then he turned his back on the thief, disappearing into the night.

Claude counted to three before collapsing ungracefully to the ground, his legs bending under him like rotten wood. Dexter moved into his lap, and Claude pat his partner absentmindedly. Granger was about to kill him—then he didn’t. The thief wondered whether Granger had ever killed anything apart from demons and unholy beings, but his painful body distracted him from any thought.

Secretly, he was also impressed by Granger’s persistence. Any other hero—even Bruno, one of his best opponents, could hardly ever catch up to him when he escapes. But Granger didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t even look winded.

He was also slightly impressed by how Granger was silhouetted in the moonlight, but that was eclipsed by the fact that he almost died and didn’t.

What made Granger change his mind? Why was his life spared? And why, oh why, was he curious about Granger’s face at all?

He looked down at Dexter, who pulled out another apple that Claude must have missed earlier. He could almost imagine the question in the monkey’s eyes.

He could almost imagine Granger’s face.

“No, Dexter,” He sighed, swiping the apple and taking a bite, not caring if his palms screamed at the action. “I don’t know what just happened either.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Granger chases after danger. Claude indulges him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: so i posted chap1 already  
> beta reader: good  
> beta reader: so when chap2  
> me: *has two quizzes and who knows how many projects*  
> also me: i'll post it right after lmao
> 
> when i wrote this chapter last year i was studying for a quiz bowl hahah, and i snuck this in between practice. glad to see my priorities haven't changed *facepalm*

Granger claimed that Claude has stolen a lot of things. A vial of aged holy water. A blessed silver medallion. A bottle of holy water combined with consecrated water of Moonlake, and a matching goblet adorned with five gems that could grant the drinker eternal youth if held properly—

"You know that sounds suspiciously like a holy grail," Alucard told him, as Granger wiped his gun clean. "And Moonlake doesn't have special water. Moonlake is just a lake. Miya told me so."

"Miya's telling you things now?" Granger said with feigned amusement, trying to hide the fact that he's been caught.

"Look, I know you don’t like to kill people—“ Granger flinched as Alucard patted him on the shoulder—“but Fanny and I can. Why don't you ever let us join you when you hunt Claude down?"

Granger wisely chose to ignore the question. "Don't let Tigreal hear you saying that."

"Don't let my brother hear what?" Fanny stepped into the threshold, her swords coated with demonic blood.

"That you and I have sworn no oath such as killing human beings. Talk some sense into him, will you? This nonsense with Claude is aggravating. He's just a thief."

Granger shuddered inwardly. Alucard just voiced out what he's been scolding himself for the past three months. But he kept his face neutral as Fanny only laughed as she cleaned her own weapons.

"Relax, Alucard. He just probably wants the recognition to himself, knowing the two of you are neck and neck. Besides, if you can't talk sense into him," Fanny shrugged. "Then no one can't."

Alucard replied with a shrug of his own. "Fair enough." He turned to Granger. "That is the reason, right? That you keep pursuing Claude alone?" His blue eyes narrowed. "Or is something going on?"

Something going on. At that, Granger was definitely sure. Something had started going on ever since he spared Claude's life that night. Ever since the thief had the gall to meet his eyes even as the gun was poised to kill.

Ever since he started looking for more and more reasons to chase the thief down.  
"Nothing I can't handle," he promised his friend. He finished cleaning the gun, slipping it into the guitar case. He stood up stiffly, noting that he had a slight sprain in his left leg. Plus the bruise that was blooming on his right hand and just beside his mouth...

Some part of him told him to stop this. To stop chasing danger just because it was there. Just because he was curious. 

That part was silenced almost as quickly as it spoke.

He left Fanny and Alucard, ready to go confront Claude again.

* * *

Tonight, the garden smelled of lavender.

Granger wondered why Claude liked this place—tactically speaking, it held more beauty over value. There were no easy exits, no way of knowing whether invaders would enter. There wasn't even a proper area to sit. Granger remembered the jacket that was tossed onto the bench that night, and he quietly sympathized with how cold it must have been.

Claude was a mystery—a menacing one, but a mystery, all the same. It was true that he wasn't quick to kill creatures that weren't tainted with the Dark Abyss, but that wasn't the reason he kept Claude alive. That was the one thing he was sure of.

He ran the list down in his head:

1\. He kept Claude alive because he was instructed to obtain the crucifix, and only the crucifix. There had been no instruction to kill.  
2\. He kept Claude alive, because he was under no jurisdiction to kill him. The security of Antoinerei fell underneath Bruno's radar. But the fact that he had no affiliations with anything should have made it alright to kill him...  
3\. He kept Claude alive because the monkey had no one else? That was scraping the bottom of the barrel.  
4\. He kept Claude alive because his umber eyes were staring at him defiantly and bravely, almost as though daring him to do the opposite.  
5\. Because despite the challenge in those eyes, he also looked scared. Not only for himself, but also for Dexter. As though despite him being a thief and all, there was still a part of him that wasn't tough and cared about others.  
6\. Because even though he laid on the ground, gashes on his hands and leaves in his face, he still looked strangely handsome. His eyes, his unintelligible, unshaken eyes, caught the moonlight and looked like rough amber. His neck, pale and dirty, looked strangely inviting. It made him feel overdressed just because he preferred to keep his face hidden.  
7\. He kept Claude alive because he was curious to see what happens next. To see if there was anything else worth knowing about him. To see if he could see those emotions in the other man's eyes again.  
8\. He had run out of reasons.

* * *

He hears Claude before he sees him.

The thief was still in the same place they had confronted each other three months ago, and during every other meeting they had from that point on. At first, it only happened once a week—Claude doesn’t only steal holy relics, and Granger had actual demons to kill. But it became too often too quickly, at one time reaching four times in one week. When churches and temples in Antoinerei report a message from the Thief King, warning in advance about some reliquary or other, Granger was there, gun in hand.

And curiosity in his eyes, though he’d never admit that.

He steps into the clearing, silent as any cat. Claude doesn’t notice him, or if he does, he’s doing a very good job of pretending he doesn’t.

Granger takes another step, and all of a sudden, Claude’s gun is aimed at him, from his seated position.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Claude doesn’t look at him, all his attention apparently focused on the grapes he was sharing with Dexter.

“It is.” He doesn’t know what else to answer. He doesn’t know how to move either. Claude is a deceptively good shot, even in his relaxed state. Granger has had scrapes from their past affairs to prove it.

Claude finally looks at him, one eyebrow arched and eyes dancing with amusement. “So what did I steal this time?”

Granger’s eyes widened. “What?”

The thief shrugged. “Usually when we meet, you always say, _You’ve taken a holy relic, Claude. Or, The Temple of Light demands their possessions back, thief. Or The holy water, you vile criminal_.” Claude mock pouted. “That was a low blow, that one. I’m not that vile. I do take baths.”

A mental image of Claude showering shows up in Granger’s mind, unbidden. He erases it before he thinks of anything else related to the issue. “How in the Dawn’s name do you remember that?”

“I’m a thief. I remember things.” Claude shifts in his seat, so that his legs are crossed on the bench and he and the hunter are facing each other properly. “So, what is it now?”

“Uh…” After that ridiculous exchange with Alucard, Granger discarded the idea of the goblet thing altogether. Granger and Claude knew full well that the thief hadn’t stolen anything—anything holy, at least. The good old rucksack looked full.

“You don’t look particularly hostile, either.” Claude tilted his head. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you going to put me in crosshairs again?”

Granger’s free hand subconsciously went to where his gun was tucked.

“I—I came to admonish you. To warn you against any other undertakings you will make against the Temple of Light or the Moniyan Empire itself!”

Well, that was embarrassing and not at all believable.

Dexter certainly agreed. He let out a bark that Granger was sure could be translated into a guffaw.

To his credit, Claude feigned indignation. “Oh no,” he said comically, clutching at his chest. ”You are right, chevalier of light. I should know better to cross you, as it means crossing the Land of Dawn itself.”

Granger could almost growl. This was not at all how he planned their conversation to go. Granted, he had no idea how it should, but definitely with a lot less deprecation on his part.

“Maybe, if I’m such a menace to the land, I should be executed.” Claude tapped a finger to his chin. “But, since you aren’t strong enough to kill me off…”

“Not strong enough?” Didn’t this idiot realize that he barely survived by the skin of his teeth? “Watch your next words, thief. I’m not the only warrior who thinks you ought to be silenced.”

Claude grins. “Aww, but I don’t want them. I want _you_.”

The wording of the statement catches both of them off guard. Granger staggered slightly backwards.

Claude clears his throat quickly. “Since you want to keep me alive, you should probably just watch over me instead, yes? Guard me and prevent me from doing any thieving and related activities?”

Granger knew where this was going. He probably shouldn’t take the bait.

Stop chasing danger just because it’s there.

Not only is he bad at lying, he’s also bad at learning.

“That would be wise.”

Claude hops up from the bench as though he was loaded on springs. Poor Dexter had to leap quickly, barely saving the grapes.

“Walk with me then, Death Chanter. Prevent me from danger.”

Granger gulps. Then he nods.

* * *

Of course, Granger barely has to do any preventing. Or anything.

He and Claude walk in silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable, which surprises him. This was the first time Claude had offered something close to a compromise for both of them, since their confrontations usually involve gunshots and running (and yes, monkey holograms, which Granger considers an unhealthy advantage). And it actually doesn’t hurt him. He just watches as Claude walks through the leaves and briars as though they were old friends, occasionally thumbing a leaf or petal they pass through. Dexter watches from a distance, as though he knows his owner doesn’t want other company for this.

They pass through a tunnel carefully covered with roses, their shades muted in the twilight but their scent overwhelming. Granger couldn’t help but look up at the graceful plants, their buds delicate among the sharp leaves, contrasting against the night sky peeking through places the flowers don’t cover. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Claude watching him.

He almost glares at the thief, but Claude recovers quickly in true insouciant fashion. “This was barely a rosebush when I started going here, you know,” He says quickly breaking the silence. “Now it’s big, and it’s thriving. Sometimes I like to think we grew at the same rate.” That grin again. Granger decides it was just as curiosity-inducing as his eyes.

“You, ah, must watch over this plant often. To know how well it’s grown.” Granger cringes. It’s not a witty reply, but Claude somehow softens at the statement.

“Actually, I do. Sometimes, I water it in the summer. Make sure it doesn’t die in the winter. Sometimes, when I have too many thoughts, I…er… I talk to it.”

“Talk to it? Surely, the monkey is enough to talk to.” He looks back at Dexter, now finishing the last of the grapes.

“Dexter is a very good partner, but there are stuff I don’t want him to go around pointing out to people. Also, I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I would go crazy if I only had the little guy to talk to,” Claude jokes, and Granger smiles beneath his coat, feeling lucky that Claude doesn’t have to say it.

Then his left leg involuntarily crumples beneath him, and Granger’s smile disappears.

Claude notices just in time to catch Granger before his hands have to touch the ground. The hunter finds himself leaning more on Claude than on his guitar case, despite it now being firmly on the ground.

“Gods of Dawn, Granger!” Claude exclaims suddenly. Granger notices that the other has taken his right hand in both of his, turning it back and forth. His eyes are narrowed in worry. Another completely new emotion in the thief’s eyes. “Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?”

Granger grits his teeth. “I’m fine.” He tries to stand up, but his leg wasn’t having it. His right hand subconsciously grasps onto Claude’s clasped ones.

Claude only rolls his eyes. “Clearly, you’re not.” He leans down, closing the distance between the two of them. He was dangerously close to seeing the hunter’s face behind the coat. “Put your arm around me.”

This time, Granger’s eyes narrow. “No.”

Claude surprises him by not having a witty retort. “Just accept it, Granger. You need it.”

Granger hates that he’s right. Or does he?

He puts his left arm around Claude’s shoulders. Before he could take the guitar case in his right hand, Claude reaches for it with his left, their fingers grazing for the slightest of seconds. 

Granger feels singed.

If Claude feels similar, there’s no such reaction his face. He misunderstands Granger’s expression for disdain for taking the case.  
“I’m not going to steal it, geez.”

What Granger does notice though, is how the arm closer to him somehow wraps around his waist. Almost protectively.

* * *

They sit on a bench not far away from the rose tunnel. There wasn’t anything they could use directly to heal the sprain, but Claude slathers the bruise with healing salve, before covering it with fresh bandages. His face was wrinkled in concentration, and Granger was amused the number of emotions he has seen pass through the thief’s countenance in just one night. This must be so different from what Claude usually goes through after a long day of pillaging.

_He just went on a walk with a Demon Hunter and is now bandaging said hunter’s hand. Different must be an understatement._

Claude lets go of the hand gently, trying not to wrinkle the bandages. Granger experimentally flexes his hand. Already the pain was decreasing.

The thief gestures to Dexter, who was watching dutifully from a nearby bush. The monkey ambles forward, perching on Claude’s shoulder and handing him something hard and shiny. He then hands it to Granger. “Here. For your leg.”

Despite himself, Granger accepts it. “Healing potion? Care to tell me where it’s from?”

The thief’s smile was only slightly rueful. He shoves Dexter off uncharacteristically. “Rafaela may or may not have allowed me access to her equipment.”

Granger raises an eyebrow at him, but already his hands were uncorking the potion, pain winning over pride. He carefully maneuvers his coat and tips the potion into his mouth, swiftly capping it when he finishes drinking. It would take a few hours, but he knows he’ll be fully recovered in no time.

He looks back at Claude, only to see the other’s eyes already on him, his eyes heavy with something Granger couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t the defiance that he saw, only months ago. Or maybe it was? There was some semblance of it, like he knows he shouldn’t be staring so openly and yet he does so anyway. As though Granger was some sort of holy relic himself that only the most faithful of pilgrims could see. 

His heart starts beating all too quickly. Or maybe it already was, he couldn’t tell.

Claude leans closer once more, and for an absurd moment, Granger thought Claude was going to kiss him.

But no. Instead, the thief only parts the hair hanging over Granger’s forehead. Lingers over the silver streak in his hair. Traces the scar over his eye.

“You have the most ridiculously beautiful eyes,” Claude whispers, almost to himself.

Before Granger could do something equally reckless, Claude finally closes what little distance was left between them. His lips brush against Granger’s forehead, tentatively, softly.

_Like a rose,_ the thought comes uninvited, like most of his thoughts that night.

If he felt singed before, now he was on fire, and he could never be put out. He feels both rooted to the ground and claimed by the wind, ready to float away any second, with only Claude to hold him back down.

_Claude. Claude. Claude_. Was he expecting anything else to happen? A part of him knew it was going to happen somehow, from the moment their eyes met in front of the ivy.

He has finally done it, then. Chased the danger, trapped it in a cage. Kept under lock and key, not bound to leave his person anytime soon.

_What was he going to do with it now?_

_What were they going to do now?_

The moment is over too quickly, and Claude’s lips leave him, tingles creeping through his skin from where there were the gentlest of touches only milliseconds ago. He still feels alight with fire.

“If… if you don’t want to come here anymore, I will perfectly understand.” He says softly, as though the trees would scold him for anything beyond a whisper. Then he leaves, swiftly, through the rose tunnel. Granger couldn’t chase him if he tried—the first instant of such a thing.

* * *

A day passes. And another. And yet another. None of the churches or temples report of the Thief King. None of the reliquaries are stolen. No holy grails disappear.

Granger should feel relieved. Instead he feels deprived.

* * *

On the fourth night, he visits the garden again. Finds Claude on the bench near the rose tunnel. No rucksack, no gun, no Dexter. They don’t say anything.

Granger pulls the annoying, clever, exasperating thief flush against his chest. Their heartbeats seem to meld into one synchronous symphony. He counts one excruciating thump after another until Claude’s arms finally wind around him, tightly, like a drowning man who found a buoy in a restless, stormy sea.

They embrace each other tightly, like the contradictions that they were.

And they don’t let go for an indiscriminately long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would definitely still be appreciated. much like chapter 1, there are some stuff that i feel i wouldn't write that way anymore this time today lmao
> 
> thank you for all the kudos so far ^___^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first truth to be told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm backkkkkkkkk (sort of)
> 
> i've already finished this fic so really i'm just following a posting schedule, but gosh darn college can really ruin your plans can it
> 
> anyways enjoy this short chappie~

Claude never imagined he would be sitting next to the marksman like this—their sides touching from shoulder to arm, his head on Granger's shoulder, Granger's breath soft on his scalp. Their fingers intertwined. Their postures unguarded. Their heartbeats on the same frequency.

It was too good to be true. To be real.

They had found a new bench, nearer to the back of the gardens, positioned against a thick, old oak tree. This allowed them to lean back, letting go of their weight, only caring about each other. In front of them, a small waterfall gurgled, its melody entrancing and soothing. Scents of freesia and tulips mingled with the earth. The night was clear and the stars plentiful.

It was the most breathtaking evening Claude has ever seen.

Perhaps even more breathtaking was Granger, beside him. Something had changed in him ever since that night, when he had impulsively drawn the thief into his arms. Claude had only seen glimpses of his relaxed self before, nothing like this. But it wasn't as difficult as he expected, or as disorienting. Rather, it was as easy as breathing, the way they got along. He didn't even mind the scuffles they occasionally had.

"I heard you're leaving again," Claude said evenly. Moments like this were rare and far apart, unlike when they were still cat and mouse. Partly because Claude had refrained from stealing from holy places altogether, but most likely because reports of minions from the Dark Abyss came almost every week. Granger and the other hunters were always on call. Claude always shudders in selfish relief that they had come together like this before the dilemma happened. If he and Granger had never opened up, if the marksman didn't fall to the ground that night, if Claude didn't have to courage to lean in close...

He nuzzles further into Granger, trying to breathe in the hunter's scent, imagining that he could dissolve into Granger, and just be.

The action must have tickled Granger. He chuckles hoarsely, the sound vibrating and sending gentle shivers through Claude. A hand extends behind the thief, strokes his hair.

"Two days from now. " Granger says calmly. It doesn't work. Claude could still hear the annoyance beneath the other's voice, at the fact that malevolent forces exist in general, that they are to be separated once more. It also surprises him that he could tell what Granger feels, just from the slightest change in tone, the softest inhalations. And Granger, despite the brief time that they got together, seems to have known him inside out.

It feels life threatening to have someone be able to read him like that.

And yet, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm sorry it had to be this abrupt," Granger continues, his hand tracing indiscernible shapes on the thief's back, "but the summons just came this morning. They are closer to the Capitol than we expected. They've infiltrated the Moonlit Forest and—" He sighs heavily, a bandaged hand cording through his hair. "I'm sorry. This was supposed to be our time to relax. Instead I'm complaining like an old man."

"Hey," Claude leans back, to get a proper look at Granger's eyes, heavy and maroon with exhaustion. "Stop apologizing. Complain all you want. I don't mind, especially if it makes you feel better. Besides," He reaches up, plants a chaste kiss on Granger's exposed cheek, "You make a handsome old man."

Granger blushes. Claude noticed that despite the numerous times they've sat together, talked together, have been together, Granger still seems shy, bashful. Claude finds it endearing, that the ruthless marksman can kill Orcs and vampires and demons and still feel skittish about a peck on the forehead. It reminds him how inexperienced, how weirdly innocent Granger was.

"You'd make a handsome old man." Granger counters. "You'd take one look at me and decide you have better choices."

"True," Claude grins. His head rests on the hunter's shoulder again. "But none of them trained a gun on my face and decided to not go ahead with it."

He can almost hear the frown on Granger's face. "You say that like it's a good thing. That I almost killed you."

The thief shrugs. "I stole a valuable object. I suppose it was a justifiable payment."

"Death is never a justifiable payment," Granger argues, like he's scolding himself. "For any human, anywhere."

Claude shrugs. "I've been threatened with worse."

This time Granger looks at him, almost incredulously. "Liar," he whispers, pulling Claude closer to him, throwing him off balance and making his head lie on Granger's lap. A more intimate recreation of their confrontation that first night.

"I'm not a liar." Claude says softly. "I'm just a thief."

Granger doesn't even deny it. "My thief," he says as he strokes Claude's forehead, slightly undoing his collar and kissing Claude just above his brow.

It sends starbursts and comets through Claude's skin. Then he realizes how much courage it must have taken for the hunter to do it first, and the comets multiply into hundreds, thousands, millions, his heart frantically beating to keep up with their fire.

Granger pulls back up, staring at Claude like he's a treasure too precious to steal.

"Granger?"

"Yes?" The hunter says softly, his hand grazing Claude's face once more.

Claude gulps. He sees Granger's eyes darken as he does it. He couldn't do it. He's too drawn into Granger to do it. Drowning. Drowning. Suffocating in the beautiful, sweet storm. Granger is a roaring fire, and he is barely an ember in the coals. He's a coward, a sneak, a weasel that, for all its cleverness, slips away at the first sign of danger.

Then he remembers that this strong, somber, sweet man is leaving in two days, for a mission that will ask for his life. And that it will always happen whether he wants it to or not.

He is not a weasel. He is not a coward.

He is a king, and a king announces whatever he wants to announce.

"I... I think I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be well appreciated~ (and i really do mean it, is there anything i can improve in the way i write? uwu)
> 
> also, seeing the amount of kudos rise every now and then makes my heart flutter ahahah~ thankyou so much, writing here has always been my dream, even before i made my own acc~
> 
> also also: i'm going to extend this to 5 chapters, it was originally going to be 4 but since it's too long i've decided it should be 5 (since chap 4 will all be from granger's pov)
> 
> that should be all for now! see ya~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter, in which a second truth is somehow realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was literally chilling hours after i posted something when i realized "wait i have a chapter to update! lmao"
> 
> the weeklong silence was due to exams, i'm sorry~ but i'm back to updating this yey~
> 
> also: i'm bad at writing action scenes. sorry in advance.  
> also also: wounds and related things are probably inaccurate. sorry for that too.

The dawn is dark and foreboding.

Harith quietly notes that it is a blood sunrise, and that with it, “bad tidings are bound to come.”

Alucard don’t even have the strength to argue with the young Leonin, his stamina already spent as it is.

Granger only broods over it, wonders what other horrors the day will bring.

They had been holding the perimeter for three days. Three days of endless hacking, stabbing, slashing. Blood. So much blood. Both the bandages on Granger’s waist and the coat itself is speckled in it. The only upside is that the blood wasn’t his. Mostly.

During the bouts of quiescence in between the fights, he thinks of Claude.

Of his endearingly, annoyingly handsome face.

The feel of his dark hair running through his fingers.

His lips barely grazing his neck, his cheek, his hair.

How bold he had been the last time they met.

How cowardly Granger had been.

“ _I think I love you.”_

_Granger paused in his ministrations, his hand by Claude’s cheek. There it was, once again—the look of defiance in the thief’s eyes, intermingled with fear. Finally, he saw it again._

_All he had to do was develop a relationship with the thief and make him confess. Who knew?_

_The words play themselves again and again in his mind, an otherworldly siren melody. His breath is suddenly hard to catch, his heart suddenly too quick. But at the same time, it feels as though someone had broken a glass cage around his heart that he didn’t even know existed. He feels free. Exhilarated. Alive. He wants to trap Claude’s words in his heart, have them tattooed on it, if possible. He doesn’t want to forget them. He already knows he never will._

_And of course, Granger knew what he had to do. In his mind, he could say it. Properly._

_“I think I love you, too.”_

_But the damn words… they wouldn’t leave his mouth. He was scared. Scared of the magnitude of his feelings, of leaving Claude after two days, of going to his uncertain doom, leaving behind an uncertain lover._

_Lover. All he had to do was say the words back. That’s it._

_Granger’s hand starts moving again, his hand moving to Claude’s thick hair. It’s a miracle his fingers don’t tremble._

_It should be easy. Why, why, why, why is it so hard?_

_Claude looks up at him, waiting, as he did before. For Granger’s judgment. Validation. Even rejection. Anything._

_“Of course you do,” he murmurs, and Claude doesn’t push the matter further._

_It is not the worst thing he could’ve said. But it is not the best thing, either._

An ungodly shriek rings out a few feet away from him, in the heart of the forest. Within seconds, he is up, silently deciphering the source of the sound. He doesn’t have to look back to know that Alucard and Harith were behind him, also trying to find where the shout comes from.

Harith comes to a sputtering stop in front of the two hunters. His ears twitch as he looks in every direction, before heading northeast. “This way!”

They run, the adrenaline keeping exhaustion at bay, and after a few minutes, a shout rings out again, and it sounds horrifically familiar.

“Fanny!” Alucard exclaims beside him, and Granger’s worst fear is confirmed.

They stumble into the clearing to see Fanny propped up against a tree, scratches on her side bleeding, her tunic bloody and torn. Her right ankle is covered in boltbent at an unnatural angle. She blinks rapidly, her chest heaving, and Granger knows that the young warrior is trying to prevent herself from going into shock, and failing.

Alucard reaches her first, and she falls into his arms limply, her entire body trembling.

“They… they were everywhere. The trees. In the bushes. Even in the sky.” Her golden eyes, which reminded Granger painfully of Claude’s, were shaking and watery. “I couldn’t stop them. I barely made it out alive.”

“Thank the Lord of Light you did,” Alucard says, trying to brace her into a better position. “We shouldn’t have brought you with us. You aren’t used to fights in places like this.”

“And when would you have brought me along?” Fanny argues, still stubborn in the face of agony and terror. “I just have to do this again and again, until I am no longer afraid.”

Fanny’s persistence was something Granger had always admired, but he wandered whether that trait had unlocked a fatality within her that they could only hope to control. Once again, his thoughts turn to Claude, at how stubborn his thief had also been, but still also smart, unbothered. He wonders how many fights Claude had gone through before he was able to harden himself in the face of fire, and yet still have a good, pliant heart beneath it all.

He misses Claude, so, _so_ much.

Meanwhile, Harith scurries around Fanny, trying to gauge her wounds. “We can’t heal her,” the elf points out. “None of us are healers, and this is not something Healing potions could heal in hours. We need to get her back to the Capitol, and _fast_.”

“Don’t bother,” Fanny rasps out. “I… I can still fight.”

“No offense, Fanny, but right now, you couldn’t fight a chicken if it was blind and hopping around on one foot.” Alucard replies.

Granger steps forward. “Hand Fanny over to me. I’ll take her back to the Capitol. You and Harith should investigate. Those demon scum are most definitely still out there, and it would be a shame if we didn’t give them the gift of death before they leave.”

Alucard nods grimly. He carefully places Fanny in Granger’s arms, who had finally given in to the pain and had squeezed her eyes shut, one hand on her side wound, tears pooling underneath her lids. “Don’t get caught.”

“Right back at you.”

Harith gives him a mock salute, before hopping into the other end of the clearing, Alucard going in another direction so that they can cover more ground.

Granger looks down at the woebegone figure in his arms.

“Ti… Tigreal…” She whispers helplessly, twisting Granger’s heart. How badly does he long to see Claude again. To hold him in his arms, to make sure that he would have no need to cry out in pain unlike the warrior he is carrying.

But he has a mission, and he has to carry it out to the end.

He starts in the direction back to the Capitol, determined to not look back. To not worry about his friends who were putting themselves in more danger than they thought necessary.

* * *

Every step Granger takes feels like knives.

His arms feel stiff and strangely numb, and he heaves harder with every breath. They are only getting slightly closer to the edge of the forest, and already the sun is nearing its zenith in the sky. Fanny had fallen unconscious in his arms, muttering incoherently in her slumber. Granger had wished she would stay awake, so that her dead weight would not slow them down, but that was a selfish wish. She needed her rest.

He also realized, almost after they left, that he should have made Alucard bring Fanny home. With Fanny curled up in his arms, they were virtually undefended. His gun was with him, but strapped in a way that he couldn't reach it without letting Fanny go. His case had been left in their camp. He felt strangely naked without it.

On the other hand, if he had stayed back, and Alucard go, they would've had a harder time holding their territory, his range too broad for just two people to hold. It would need all four of them to secure a perimeter around the forest. And lots more.

Then the environment around him shifted. More sunlight filtered through the forest canopy. The underbrush grew taller, more shrubbery than moss. The air grew slightly warmer, and felt more restless, like it had more space to move. The trees grew less close together. They were finally getting close.

Granger suddenly remembered Antoinerei Gardens, how he and Claude only met there in the dead of the night. He decided that they should try meeting at some other time—in the day, for instance, or at sunset. At a restaurant, or maybe at a beach. Maybe he could convince Alucard to bring them to Moonlake.

His cheeks reddened slightly at these thoughts. He was planning _dates_ with this man. It excited him all the same, and filled him with resolution. He _will_ go back to Claude. He _will_ go on dates with him. He _will_ tell him that he loves him more than anything in the world.

No sooner that those words were engraved in his mind, darkness engulfed his surroundings. A red orb of energy streaked beside him, narrowly missing Fanny's outslung legs. Then something wet, acrid, and _painful_ hit his left ankle. Granger, already worn out and tired, stumbled to the forest floor. Fanny spilled out of his arms, still asleep and thankfully, unscathed. But he suspected Fanny wouldn't stay unconscious for long. Already her eyes were flickering, arriving to the fugue state between inactivity and wakefulness.

He was not about to let anything happen to her.

Granger braced himself up, preparing his gun. He took one of Fanny's swords. He wasn't particularly good with them, but it was one extra weapon.

He turned around, keeping his comrade behind him. He got into a fighting stance, gun at the ready.

A figure started coming out of the shadows. It coalesced into a female figure, pale-skinned and dressed in black and purple. Her beautiful face was marred by the evil smirk on her lips.

"Alice," Granger almost growled. His gun automatically raised to her forehead. "Vampire whore."

The vampire coolly ignored him, sashaying into the sunlight. There had been stories once, of vampires being these seductive creatures, immortal, only hurt by silver, garlic, holy items, or sunlight. He didn't know what unnatural phenomenon had happened to allow vampires to walk in broad daylight, but he doesn't exactly have the time to brood about it now. At least they were still vulnerable to everything else.

He mirrored Alice's movements, making sure that Fanny would be blocked in any direction.

“This isn’t your domain,” He tries again, louder. “Leave, while you still can.”

“Like you were doing, just moments ago?” Alice simpered. “Besides, didn’t you want to give me something before you left? What about the _gift of death_?”

A cold ripple of fear ran through Granger’s body. Behind him, Fanny whimpered, as though she sensed it.

_Don’t wake up yet_ , he thought helplessly. Not now.

“Unfortunately, it looks like I already am dead,” Alice continued, finally coming to a stop, her fangs bared. Great reptilian wings spread from her back. “Perhaps I shall be the one to give it you!”

The vampire pounced. Granger quickly dodged, shooting six bullets consecutively at the monster, aiming for the wings. His bullets hit both membranes of Alice’s wings, while the sixth one hit her side. She let out a howl and toppled to the ground. Granger took this as an opportunity to reload.

No sooner were the cases replaced, a red ball of blood and energy flew towards him again. This time, Granger was too slow, and it grazed his arm. All too immediately, his limb felt weak. It felt as though his blood was draining into nowhere. His fingers twitched involuntarily, and he dropped the gun.

He was unnerved. He was never disarmed that quickly before.

Not that he has time to think about it. Alice was already on the move. Granger moved away from her again, also picking up the gun in one smooth motion. His hand felt like lead. In bandages, it may very well be a paper-wrapped rock, but he forced himself to aim once more, going for the heart.

Six bullets roared in succession once more. They all hit Alice in some part of her body, but unfortunately, none hit her chest. One managed to snag her right horn. She hissed in anger, but Granger sensed she was more enraged than hurt.

_Enraged works_ , he thought. _Make her more pissed._

Another round of bullets. Another roar of pain. Granger knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. He needed a holy object, but none was on his person right now. Garlic? He hadn’t eaten anything close to that in days. That left silver, but unfortunately, his bullets were encased in steel, not silver. He cursed himself for even wasting them.

What else did he have?

_The sword_.

In a flash, he had an idea, but before he could use it—

“Well, well, well.” Alice’s evil grin returned once more. Her gaze left Granger, focusing somewhere to his right.

Focusing on Fanny.

“The Imperial Knight’s younger sister… oh, how Tigreal trusts you demon hunters so!” Alice let loose a sinister laugh. “To let you bring her to a scouting mission! You are all supposed to be smart and tactical. Instead you go here, barely even able to protect a small perimeter, with a very precious warrior in tow! How about you think back on the girls’ words earlier, Death Chanter?”

Granger flinches at his moniker being used to insult him, but he also recalls Fanny’s words.

_“They… they were everywhere. The trees. In the bushes. Even in the sky.”_

No sooner does he finally realize, the sky darkens thrice as it had before. Low growls and howls emanate from the trees, the sky, _the ground._ Creatures appear behind Alice, beside her, on their left, their right, even behind him and Fanny.

_It was never going to be a fair fight._

_She was only stalling._

_Alucard and Harith could never reach us in time._

_Claude—I’m sorry._

Then behind him—a pained moan that belonged to no monster.

He risked a look back. Fanny was looking back up at him, pain and determination distilling in her eyes. She was trying to sit up using the length of her sword, but the wound in her side made her almost motionless. Instead, her eyes drifted to Alice. Then the monsters. Then her blade. Finally, to Granger, with the second sword in his other hand.

Ever so slightly, that it looks a painful spasm to anyone else, her head dips in a shaky, curt nod.

Granger lets out a breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding.

“Exchanging your final words, humans?” The vampire queen was delighted at the change of events. A brand new orb, somehow more crimson and vile-looking than before, formed in her right hand. “You’re lucky that as a queen, I can be this lenient. Your death could’ve come ages ago!”

The marksman only brings his gun up again. His fingers shift on the sword.

“That’s where your wrong, _your Highness_.” He puts the blade up, light yet unwieldy in his hands.

“I’m the _Death Chanter_ , you idiot. _I_ decide when demons like you breathe your last. As I decide for my own.” Granger pulls the trigger, and he shoots.

Not at Alice.

The bullets hit the closest monsters to them in all directions. When he’s done, he rushes to Alice _first_ , throwing the vampire off-balance. Fanny’s sword, which she reassured him, was _silver_ , slides through the vampire’s chest like it was made of butter.

Alice lets out her loudest shriek yet, as though the sound came from hell itself. Her fingernails elongate into claws, and Granger leaps backward. It wasn’t enough. The claws rake his gut, tearing through the bandages like it was an afterthought. Three red gashes create crevasses on his skin. He barely has time to feel the pain before he falls to his knees, his eyes trained on the forest floor.

From the very edge of his sight, he sees Alice dissolve into black and red ashes, swirling into the forest air. A single red blood orb floats where she just stood, before also dissipating into nothing.

_At least that one’s done for,_ he murmurs in his mind. _Just please let me keep Fanny safe. Please. Please. Just until Alucard or Harith arrive…_

_Lord of Light, please tell Claude I love him for me. Whisper it to the flowers. Let it hang in the evening mist._

Granger stands up once more, if anyone can call it standing, his whole body hunched over like a tree struck by lightning. An Orc is directly in front of him, just underneath a tree. It was hesitating while Alice was still corporeal, but clearly it realized that its commander was no more. It let out a hungry snarl and dove for the hunter.

Granger didn’t even have time to lift the sword when the Orc fell almost exactly where Alice did, a silver arrow embedded in its neck.

_Arrow_?

He realized all around him, monsters were actually shrieking and howling—in pain, it seems. Someone was obliterating the monsters for them. Not his fellow hunters, obviously—even Harith can’t clear off monsters that many in such a broad scale.

A humanoid figure finally steps into the vicinity. Granger says humanoid, because there’s something about them that isn’t exactly mortal, but not demonic either. This creature seems lighter on their foot, and less pale than the vampire scum, but its skin—her skin, now that Granger could make it out the shape of its body—shone with a healthy glow. In her hands is a weapon that glittered under the sun and shade. Her hair is as silver as the arrow in the fell monster’s throat, embellished with three blue feathers. The ears really drive the point home to him.

Pointed ears.

“Elves,” he murmurs, this time out loud. “Moon Elves.”

The Moon Elf smiles at him, amused at his awe… then it turns into a look of horror. She seems to be falling farther and smaller. Or is _he_ the one falling over? It seems so. His entire torso feels numb, his legs nothing more than inanimate logs. He doesn’t only look like a lightning-stuck tree. He even feels like it.

“Bring Fan home for me, will you?” He says, softly, as his entire being slips into the ether. “And tell Claude…”

His body doesn’t fall entirely to the ground, as the Moon Elf catches him before he does. But his soul doesn’t get the memo, apparently.

“Tell who? Wake up, hunter! Estes! My king, over here!”

_I just killed a queen, now there’s a king?_

Granger hates it that the last thing he thinks about before going dark is a joke. Then everything is removed from him, or maybe he is removed from everything, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

\--

Granger dreams nonsensical things. Images from his childhood mingle with things he swears happened only months ago. The Monastery of Light, overrun with Orcs. Violins, their music lilting and trembling beautifully, but discordant with screams. The Imperial Army, finding him amongst the ruins of his village, and yet his friends are among them, already grown, their faces painted with pity as he had never seen awake.

And Claude. Between all the nightmares, sometimes cutting through them, saving him from the brink of insanity. Claude was always there.

\--

_“Wake up, sleepyhead.” The thief murmurs into his hair, the soft breath gliding along his scalp like a summer breeze._

_Granger blinks his eyes open. Despite everything that happened, his body feels perfectly fine. In fact, he has never felt better._

_Beside him, Claude lies down sideways; staring at Granger’s side profile like it was a prized painting. His eyes are full of relief and happiness, and he reaches over to properly kiss Granger’s forehead._

_“It’s been so long.” He mutters._

_“H-how long?” The marksman is perfectly happy to stay in the thief’s arms, forever, if possible, but some part of him worries about the mission, and the empire. Granger wills himself to forget it. Nothing matters for now, save for the man he’s been reunited with._

_“Too long. But it will be okay now. I saved you.” Claude smirks at him, able to go from grateful to arrogant in a matter of seconds._

_“You always save me. Even when you don’t realize it.” Granger says sincerely. He takes Claude’s hand in both his own, thankful that someone had removed his bandages and can hold the other’s hand tightly, skin to skin. “I… I didn’t realize I needed someone like you in my life. I never thought I would still think of you when I let you go, but every single second…” He shakes his head, both to chastise himself and to clear the muddled thoughts in his mind._

_“I’ve denied myself of too many things; I’ve denied myself hope, happiness, love.” He stares at Claude with all the feelings that ring true in his heart. “I love you, Claude. I wish I could’ve told you sooner. You make me whole.”_

_Claude only stays quiet, the smile not leaving his lips, though they soften into an adoring one._

_“Of course you do,” He teases, like what Granger had said before. “Now, wake up and tell the truth to me. In person.”_

_“Wha.. what?”_

_“Wake up, I’ve run out of people to annoy,” Claude repeats. His lips draw closer again—but instead of his forehead, they graze closer and closer to his lips. Granger’s lips unconsciously loosen, anticipating the thief’s lips on his own. The kiss only lasts for a second, but already Granger feels like combusting, the surge of love running through his body and soul like wildfire._

_“I miss you, Granger. Come back to me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos would be well appreciated~ love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will always set you free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 8 pm, and i'm sleepy. but if i dont post this now i might get lazy and never finish this so here i am mwehehe
> 
> upon rereading this, it all feels a bit too fluffy for me, but hey, who doesnt like happy endings?

Granger wakes up. For real this time.

He’s in the Imperial Sanctuary, by the looks of it. He’s only been there to occasionally receive missions from Tigreal himself, or when Princess Silvanna officially made him a Lightborn Chevalier. Both times, Granger didn’t think to look around. But the room he was in was bedecked in so much finery and gold that he couldn’t think of any other place in the Moniyan Empire equal to it.

He shifts gingerly in the cot. His torso’s wrapped in fresh bandages, and underneath he can still feel the wounds Alice left. But the pain has greatly diminished, and he no longer feels like a lightning tree. Every other wound has been tended to as well, and his right arm is no longer numb. He doesn’t necessarily feel fully healed, but it’s so far removed from what he was experiencing that it’s almost a miracle.

Having fully checked himself, Granger took a closer look at his surroundings. White silken curtains with gold lining billowed in the soft wind, which matched the furniture’s white and gold patchwork. On a nearby duvet, his coat and things have been laid out, along with his violin case. Granger could almost weep with relief.

Immediately to his left, a nightstand held a glass of water. Beyond that, a tall, ornate bookshelf stood proudly. And beside the bookshelf…

“Ah, you’re awake.” Alucard looked up from the book he was reading. He looked exactly like Granger felt—tired, but somehow alright. “That was some incident, wasn’t it? I honestly thought it would take you longer to recover. Last night you were whimpering in your sleep.”

“I… What happened?” Granger was going to ask _I whimpered?_ but that doesn’t seem to be a major issue compared to everything else that occurred.

“The Moon Elves happened.” Alucard smiled, and Granger noted that it was a mix of pride and bitterness. “Moonlit Forest had been overrun, but they still mustered enough forces somehow to send help.” He places the book back on the shelf. “Harith and I already heard the gunshots, but you were so far away, we feared we wouldn’t make it there in time.” His gaze was far-off, replaying the events in his mind’s eye. “If the Moon Elves, hadn’t arrived, well…” His eyes come back into focus, boring into Granger’s with grim intensity. “Perhaps you wouldn’t be here.”

Granger shifted in his place once again at that. He doesn’t like owing gratitude to anyone, as do most Demon Hunters he knows, as it makes relations complicated. But this one time, he feels immense gratefulness for that Moon Elf that intercepted that Orc. He might never be able to pay it back, but perhaps some favors could be arranged—

“That was Miya, by the way,” Alucard continues, bringing something small out of his pocket and fiddling with it. “The Moon Elf who saved you.”

“Oh?” Granger’s eyebrows raised. “She was very good.”

Alucard’s smile returns once more. “She was, wasn’t she? She brought you—and Fanny, who’s now perfectly okay, if you wanted to know—back here. She was with Estes, the king of the Moon Elves. He healed you both, but on your part, you needed a lot more treatment. And like I said, a lot more sleeping. But that’s done for now,” Alucard stands up, still playing with the small object. “I’m going to find Rafaela, have her check on you. Once she decides you’re good to go, you can go see Claude.”

Granger pales, then blushes, and pales once again.

“What—why—Claude—we’re not—“

“Not together?” Alucard says. “You keep repeating his name in your sleep, Granger; when you weren’t whimpering or sobbing, you whisper his name. It’s been a week of you just alternating between the three: whimpering, sobbing, and whispering Claude’s name. Granted, it’s sweet,” the demon hunter shrugs. “But you promised me nothing else was going on! That it was nothing you couldn’t handle!”

“I _did_ handle it,” Granger retorts, if you can call dating your enemy _handling_. “And—to be honest—I was scared of what you all would’ve said. That I fell for someone like him.”

At the word _fell_ , Alucard’s face softens once more, his eyes a sluggish cerulean.

“I could never judge you for what you feel, Granger,” He promised. “I understand, or at least, am trying to understand. And if he is the one that keeps you happy and safe and complete, then go to him. Make him feel the same. Love each other so much it overflows.”

Alucard’s tone was wistful, and his hand tightens around the small object. Granger notices that it is a bright blue feather. Like the ones in Miya’s hair…

“Alu?” Granger tries, a little timidly. There’s a sort of tension in the other’s body that made Granger hesitate before asking. “Is Miya… is Miya okay?”

No reply. A shudder goes back his spine, realizing what just happened. How Miya had been so brave and amused… how she was able to save both him _and_ Fanny. She is—was—a remarkable Moon Elf. No wonder Alucard looked so out of it. He must be severely devastated, even if his countenance remains unperturbed.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” He wanted to say these words to his friend, but pity, like gratitude, is something Demon Hunters take awkwardly. Instead, he leans back against the pillows, slightly turning over so that his friend could have a moment to compose himself. After a few minutes, Alucard is ready to move once more. He taps Granger, who was about to fall asleep again.

“I’m off find Rafaela,” he repeats. “The sooner you get back to Claude, the better.”

Another unlikely shower of gratitude. Granger only nods.

“Please go to him as quickly as you can,” Alucard says sadly. “Enjoy every single moment with him. You never know how long it’s going to last…”

Granger nodded once more, and by impulse, his hand reaches up to clasp Alucard’s shoulder, a sign of true deference.

“Thank you. And I will.”

Already after Alucard left, Granger starts feeling drowsy again. But he couldn’t deny the excitement at his core upon getting the chance to meet and even just talk about Claude once more. It is perfectly mingled with the sadness he felt, for a certain Moon Elf he would never be able to repay again.

* * *

Granger is weaponless as he enters the Gardens. If he felt naked before, in the leaves of the forest, without his case, he weirdly doesn't feel that way anymore. If any, he felt lighter. Freer. Those weapons were for when he was a hunter. He wasn't hunting anything right now.

What did the gardens smell, like Claude first kissed him? Rose, chamomile?

_Lavender._

Tonight, all the flowers seemed to have bloomed. As though in anticipation. Waiting for him to return. His feet absentmindedly brings him to the bench where they last met, by the oak tree and the fountains.

Claude wasn't there.

Granger's pulse quickens ever so slightly. He abruptly walks to their first bench, crowded with flowering bushes.

No Claude. Not even the monkey.

Granger felt anxious. Where is Claude? He thought... He thought the thief was always here. Wasn't this one of his favorite places? Granger ran the list down in his mind, of the hideouts Claude had told him. Those were all far from each other, and more well-hidden than this place. Did he have to go to all of them?

He doesn't care. He will.

Granger methodically goes through the garden first. The rose tunnel, the trellises, pathways they've never walked before, statues and ponds and topiaries bursting with beauty, fading in front of him because the one person he wants isn't there. A beautiful garden in his hands, and still, he wants the thief. His thief.

_What if he was finally caught? Clapped in chains?_

_What if he snuck into a place too trapped for him to escape from?_

_What if... The Abyssal Creatures got to him somehow?_

These are all unbidden thoughts, and Granger forced them to be rearranged into his head. Claude is smart, and resourceful, and just as strong as he was. He was a stubborn, mischievous, and probably ten times as clever than the marksman could ever be. Nothing was going to happen to him.

Yet the fear didn't leave his chest.

"Claude?!" Granger called out into the night air, his voice hoarse.

Silence replied him in great abundance.

“Claude, please!” A hint of desperation had crept into his voice.

Miraculously, a voice answered back.

"....Granger!"

He turned around to see the thief running up to him, dumping his bag on the floor, Dexter scampering and nipping at his heels. The gun was strapped still strapped to his arm and the cloak on his shoulder disheveled. Granger never saw him like this, so unruly and tired.

He still looked very, very handsome.

They collided, a mess of clothes and hair and skin, the gun clunky and heavy as it dug behind Granger, and he didn't care. His hands reached up to cradle Claude's face without his volition, and Claude dutifully nudged against them, finally leaning closer so that their foreheads could touch.

"Sorry I'm late," the thief murmured, his breath tickling the marksman's face. "Duty called."

"You idiot," Granger would've shoved him in the chest if Claude didn't have his arms so tight woven around him. "It should be me saying that. Not you."

The other only brought his head onto Granger's shoulder, nuzzling into it and breathing in the hunter's scent. "It has been the worst two weeks of my life." The thief's voice cracks, and he lets out a single sob before hugging the marksman tighter, if that was even possible. "Everyday—every single day—I went to the Temple. I kept on praying that you weren't dead. I didn't even have a single religious hair on me." Claude laughed despite himself.

“You… you _changed_ me, Granger. I thought I never could. But you did. When I’m around you, I feel safer. Stronger. More stable. Like I don’t have to hide or sneak around. You brought me to the light.” His face finally lifts up so that their eyes meet, scarlet and umber. “I never want to leave it again.”

“And you won’t. I promise.” Underneath Claude’s steady gaze, Granger felt more vulnerable than he ever thought possible, but he resisted the urge to look away. “You think _I_ changed you? Claude, you were already a good soul from the very beginning. I wasn’t deserving of you.” His voice catches, but he presses on, determined to finally say all that he felt out loud. “You gave me a reason to live again. To _really_ live again. More times than I could count, I thought about ending all this… this pointless battle against the dark in which no one would really win. Nothing could have pierced my thoughts. Not even the music I listened to…”

“Then I received a mission to apprehend you.”

“And you pointed a gun at my face.” Claude mumbles weakly.

“ _And you stared it down_. You were a challenge to me, Claude; you made me confused. You made me wonder about things I didn’t care about. You made me care about something other than missions or hunting or violins. Even now, I feel like I still don’t deserve you. But you loved me all the same.” Granger shook his head in disbelief. “You _are_ my light, Claude. A kleptomaniac, extremely stubborn, egotistical light, but my light all the same. I wouldn’t have loved you if you were anything else but yourself.”

Claude snorts at this. “Kleptomaniac, stubborn, egotistical—you really had to say all that didn’t—did you just say you _loved_ me?”

Granger smirked. “Ah, it seems that the light of my life is also deaf.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claude mutters. “Say it again.”

The thief looked so cute and embarrassed, that Granger reached up to cup his cheek again, thumb brushing over the soft skin. “Say _what_ again, love?”

He was rewarded with a soft whimper from Claude. “… _That_.”

The marksman took a deep breath, gently nudging Claude’s face closer so that they were barely centimeters apart. This was it. This was the moment he’d been preparing for. For Claude’s sake, for their sake, it had to be special. That beautiful combination of fear and defiance shone once again in the thief’s eyes, the very thing that Granger likes to think made him start falling. He drinks it all in as he finally says the words.

“Claude…” Granger breathes, his other hand wrapping around Claude’s waist, palm warm through the bandages. Claude only stares back at him, those golden brown eyes wide with wonder. Lips slightly parted.

_Love each other so much it overflows._

_Whisper it to the flowers. Let it hang in the evening mist._

Their lips are just a hair apart.

“…I love you.”

Then Granger leans in for the kiss, and they are lost.

* * *

_They are stardust. Particles floating in space, adrift for millions of years, looking desperately for a center, a safe harbor, a home. They have searched and searched, and now it has been found. Planets explode, galaxies burst into bright sparks, suns burn with holy fire. Let the universe crumble around them. Let everything else surrender to the entropy, sink into the ether. They have found one another, what need is there for anything else?_

_They have created a world of their own, and that was more than enough_.

* * *

Granger’s lips are soft and warm against Claude’s, gently, gently moving as though one wrong gesture would make him shatter. The bandaged hand on his cheek slowly moves to the nape of his neck, brushing through his hair, ever so slightly pushing him closer. The hand on his waist does the same, crushing their two bodies together. If Claude could only break the laws of physics, and become one with this precious, amazing, man, he would. There might be nothing else he’d want in this world.

He kisses Granger back just as shyly, trying to convey how special he felt. How treasured. His gunned arm is motionless behind the hunter, but his other hand roams all over the expanse of his back, tracing lines and paths and shapes. He begins feeling slightly overwhelmed, dizzy with pleasure. His head spins, and in its axis, his mind just keeps whispering _Granger, Granger, Granger…_

And of course, _that’s_ when Granger bites his lip softly. The thief cries out, breathless and needy, and the hunter uses this moment to kiss him deeper, their lips no longer shy. They kiss each other with equal fervor, no one really dominating over the other.

Then Granger slowly leaves Claude’s lips, giving him a moment to catch his breath. That’s all he can do, really, because Granger actually leaned down to kiss his neck, dragging his lips over the pale skin. He dots it with tiny pecks, each one a lightning bolt to his heart. And for the encore, Granger scrapes his teeth on the skin, biting, a pink color blooming due to his actions.

“Ah… Ah… _Granger, wait,”_ Claude fumbles out. His hand flies to Granger's hair, unsure whether he should make him leave or stay.

Granger leaves anyway, and Claude is gratified that the hunter looks as heady as he does, those wine-red eyes swirling with desire. His lips almost the same shade, puffy from pampering Claude. "Something wrong, love?"

"Nothing." Claude suddenly feels a ridiculous urge to cry, despite having just made out with the love of his life seconds ago. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is absolutely perfect."

"As it should be." Granger strokes his cheek again. "Are you crying, love?"

Oh, great. The more Granger calls him that, the more that he is going to melt into a puddle of sap and tears. "W-why do you keep calling me that?"

The marksman tilts his head. "I don't know. I just tried it earlier. And it suits you."

" _It suits me_?" What in the world did he do to deserve such a sweet, amazing person? "But I don't even call you anything."

Granger only smiles, pressing another kiss onto Claude's lips. "Just call me _yours."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hi! If you're reading this, then you've finished this story! Congrats!
> 
> or have you?
> 
> Comments and kudos will be well-appreciated! Love you all!!!
> 
> (also, shameless plug: follow me on ig @cheol_apple, its practically an empty newborn acc right now lmao but i will use it to post updates if i have any?? also i need more friends in general ._.)


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gifts are given, loose ends are tied, and there are some things to be less curious about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, here it is, after who knows how long. I was going to post it sometime around Valentine's but college got in the way, and it continually did so oof. My beta resurrected from the dead to tell me to post it already so here i am fulfilling that ahahah, she's the reason why The Truth Untold is here in the first place~
> 
> The oneshot spin-off is coming, so please anticipate it! If any of you would like to, you can follow me on ig @cheol_apple ~I occasionally post updates and if y'all wanna chat abt kpop or ml hehe

**_Two Months Later_ **

The Imperial Sanctuary.

Claude, despite all his adventures and antics, has never been to this royal stronghold before. It is extremely decadent and bursting with valuables. A year ago, he would have looted the place, probably leaving only the royal crowns and thrones—

Who was he kidding? He would have stolen everything. In the past at least. Today was something quite different.

On his shoulder, Dexter is skittish, probably also thinking of all the shiny things they could be stealing. The monkey looked weirdly cute in the small custom-made suit that he had jokingly bought, but even Granger agreed that Claude's partner should dress for the occasion.

Granger.

The week following their tryst in the gardens was the best week of Claude's life, making up for every single time he was anxious and scared for Granger's life. On impulse, the two of them stayed in the garden overnight, before finally, _finally_ , going somewhere else.

Granger brought him to a restaurant, and it was obvious that the musician had planned to do this for quite a while, which only made Claude love the marksman even more. They had strolled the streets of Antoinerei afterwards, just soaking in the sunshine, uncaring of any strange looks they were probably getting. That night, Claude then brought him to his home, a set of apartments right in the city. They had spent the night together just cuddling, whispering sweet nothings, falling asleep together.

The next few days consisted of Granger bringing him to the Capitol, then to _his_ apartments, and finally, in a strange decision, to the Monastery of Light.

"This is where I grew up." Granger said simply, taking in the olden building, alight with candelabra. "I used to sit by that spot over there—“ he pointed to a bit of concrete by a doorway alight with torches. “—and the music the monks played would drift in. Back then, I was... well, I was like an island. I wouldn't talk to anyone. Look at anyone. I would get fed, be given clothes, but that was it. The only I ever paid attention to was the music."

"Anything else reminded me of... of..."

"…of your family." Claude finished quietly.

The hunter didn't have to say anything for Claude to know the answer was yes.

"I wish I reached out earlier," Granger says suddenly, grasping the thief's hand tightly. "I wish I knew I was suffocating myself."

"You couldn't have," Claude countered. "You were just a kid. _They_ should have tried harder."

"We all have our shortcomings," Granger continued. "I just wish... I guess I just wish things happened differently. Not just that my family didn't die and our home burned... I wish I made more friends here. Carved out a different life for myself. When I first used the gun, I thought I was being clever. I thought I had a new life again. It was more like a half-life, truly, than anything."

Claude was silent at this. Then his eyes widened and he turned to Granger. "But you _did_ carve out a different life."

"What?"

"You've said before that living in the Monastery of Light only led to two choices: being a Demon Hunter or working here as a servant. And you chose—“

"Both." Granger finished, having said this a thousand times already. "But Claude, the decisions I made—“

"You stood by them." Claude insisted. "It was a different life from the moment you decided you would keep both your violin and gun close to you. Even if it was a half-life, it was still some sort of living. You came out of your shell. You grew stronger. Harder. You saved yourself without even you knowing it." The other hand still in the hunter's, Claude reached up to cup Granger's cheek. "And think of it this way," the thief continued. "If your life turned out differently, you would never have had the mission to catch me. We never would have met."

Granger reached up to cover the thief's hand, a weak smile on his lips. "Very true."

"So stop worrying, okay? Honor your family, Granger. Find a new home. Be happy again. Live a _whole_ life."

"I already am."

________________

"Rise Chevalier Tigreal, Chevalier Alucard, Chevalier Granger, Chevalier Harith, and Chevalier Fanny, for today you have proven yourselves true heroes of the Moniyan Empire."

Princess Silvanna waved her arms in a triumphant gesture. "Behold: the Lightborn Chevaliers of the Moniyan Empire, who drove away the forces of the Dark Abyss and stood on the frontlines facing death and jeopardy. Hail!"

"Hail!" The people of Moniyan chanted in return.

The Chevaliers were clad in clothes and armor of gold, blue, and white, the sheen blinding and glorious in the early afternoon sun. It is said that the Lord of Light himself blessed the heroes with these garments, through Silvanna's intercession. And with these garments, came the gifts of wisdom and courage. It gave the five of them the strength to successfully drive off Dyrroth's forces and seal the Dark Abyss once and for all.

Claude quietly approved of the Lord's sense of style—almost as though he knew there were people waiting to see these heroes and exalt them. They looked elevated, glorious, triumphant. He was _really_ curious about Fanny's gilded golden wings.

But Granger was enough to keep his full attention. For once, his face was exposed, and his body and limbs were devoid of bandages. The scar over his eye had been magically faded out, and the most mystic change was that his eyes had changed from crimson to sapphire. They gleamed in the sunlight, despite his stoic face and his serious gait.

The white and gold coat suits his features perfectly, and a lone blue scarf would around his collar, bringing out his eyes. His gun and violin had also been revamped in gold and white. Despite all this finery, though, Claude could sense how nervous and stiff the marksman was in front of all these people. He didn't look directly at them, and instead was looking at some vague space above their heads. His hands were slightly trembling as they clung to their weapons. And the eyes—Claude wasn't used to their blue, but he still sees the discomfort in them, clear as day, even if it couldn't be seen by anyone else.

Then Granger turned his head, almost as though struck by something. His eyes traveled through the crowds, as though he had lost something or someone. They passed by Claude—then they paused, and stared at him again. The thief only gave Granger a bright smile.

Granger's lips turned up slightly at the corners—it would look arrogant to some, but Claude knew it was a smile of relief. Granger wasn't alone. He had Claude.

_'And you always will, Granger_ ,' Claude added silently to himself. _'Always and forever_.'

________________

The Lightborn Chevaliers walked back into the Imperial Sanctuary, light bouncing off their livery. Granger knew these clothes--and the magical reserves of courage that was bestowed upon them--had been a colossal help to them in winning the war. But they felt almost alien to him. With his face out in the open, he feels vulnerable, easily read. Not a trait that a Demon Hunter would typically have. They _did_ look good though. Fanny was almost euphoric, gliding through the parapets, the wings resplendent behind her. Harith was a cute vision in his white and sky-blue cloak, his tail moving behind him in satisfaction. Even Tigreal seemed proud. He hefted his giant sword and shield with pride, but since when didn't the Imperial Captain do so?

The only true image that marred them was Alucard. It has been weeks since Miya died, and still his face was gaunt. The smile barely reached his eyes. His posture was tired and weary, like the Moon Elf's death had permanently snapped something in him. Even now, surrounded as he was by friends, the Demon Hunter lagged slowly behind, as though waiting for someone to walk beside him that never will.

Granger slowly adjusted his steps, letting Harith overtake him and waiting for Alucard to match his speed. They walked together slowly, orphaned children, who grew up to be vengeful men. The two most fearsome Demon Hunters in the land.

The musician placed a hand on Alucard's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Alucard scoffed slightly. "Are you kidding? You caught me on one of my better days."

Granger was slightly saddened at this statement. This was not the buoyant, optimistic man he befriended. Surely that man was still in there somewhere.

"I am in no position to judge how you feel as of late," Granger began, his words mirroring that of Alucard's when he woke up. "But when I was lonely, reminiscing all the things and people I've lost... A friend told me to honor them by living instead. To not let their memories go to waste, and to fill the empty spaces with new memories. Happy ones." The marksman shrugged. "Granted, it sounds hard, but it's true. We can't let grief rule us for the rest of our lives."

Alucard lets out what sounds like a raspy chuckle. "That Claude really turned you around, didn't he?"

"Almost, but not quite," Granger smiled. "More like he's leading me down the right track."

Alucard opened his mouth to say something, but a small mess of hair and fur ran towards them, wrapping his arms around the fighter’s waist.

"Alu! Alu!" Harith exclaimed. "You and Granger were taking so long. So Fanny made us go check on you."

Granger looked on as Alucard knelt in front of the young Leonin. He can almost see the gears turning in Demon Hunter's head, how in the Enchanted Forest, Leonins and Moon Elves lived in peace. How a certain Moon Elf took a liking to the Leonins as well...

"Sorry for taking so long," Alucard grinned as he ruffled Harith's hair, knowing that the Leonin hated it. "We were just finishing here. We'll catch up."

Harith pouted at his ruffled hair, but it disappeared almost immediately and was replaced by a toothy grin. "Okay!" He ran back down the hallway, probably off to report this to Fanny.

Soon enough the two Hunters were alone. Alucard stood up. He still looked a little sad, but some of the mischief had been retained in his eyes. He clasped Granger's hand, as though in allegiance.

"Thank you, Granger." He said. "Maybe you can still knock some sense into me, after all."

"If I can't, then who can?" Granger quipped, and the two shared a laugh. Alucard started walking to the hallway the other warriors had gone to. "You coming?"

Granger only walked to the closest window. Almost directly in front of him, down in the courtyard, Claude was sitting on a bench, tossing grapes and gold coins back and forth with Dexter. Claude's suit was now wrinkled, and he sweated slightly in the heat, but he still looked debonair. Granger's heart skipped a little.

"Go ahead," He said, eyes not leaving the thief's figure. "Someone's waiting for me down there."

________________

"Took you long enough." Claude smirked as Granger ran up him in the courtyard, having hastily changed back into his normal coat. The only proof that the marksman was a Lightborn Chevalier at all was his blue eyes. But even that was slowly fading, turning into a strange indigo. Perhaps the Lord of Light's blessing only worked with the armor on.

"You looked dazzling out there," the thief continued, fixing Granger's collar. "The coat really brings out your hair."

Granger snorted, reaching up to touch the white streak himself. "As if it needed additional attention."

Claude brought his hands to his mouth in mock surprise. “I _never_ would have thought you didn’t like it when you were put under too much attention!”

“Yes, you did.” Granger deadpanned.

“Yes, I did.” Claude smiled, feeling his heart brighten as the musician smiled back.

“Walk with me?” Granger asked, holding out his hand. Claude took it without question, noting that his hands were bare. He let the hunter lead the way, as they left the courtyard and passed through several parapets, each one fancier than the next. It reminds him of their first walk in Antoinerei, but in reverse—this time, it was Granger that invited him, and they were strolling underneath the afternoon sun.

They passed by gurgling fountains and statues creeping with vines, shrubberies blossoming over in yellow, white, and red; the pathways became less of a guide and more of a suggestion. At one beginning, Dexter had been chilling out on Claude’s shoulder, but at some point, the monkey grew bored and leapt of Claude’s shoulder. He wasn’t particularly worried. His partner would always come back later.

They eventually came to a stop in front of a rose trellis, Granger’s hand dropping away only to come back and hook around Claude’s waist. “I finally did some exploring around the Sanctuary,” he explains, his gaze on the roses. “I only found out about this place this morning. Fanny pointed it out to me.” He looks at Claude, his expression inquisitive. “Does it look familiar to you?”

Claude reached out to touch the flowers—vermillion and silky underneath his fingertips. “It reminds me of our first walk,” he said, smile alight with past memories. “I was nervous you wouldn’t come join me. Then we did walk together, and you fell over.” The thief snickers lightly, remembering the events of that night. His laugh growing quieter as he remembered what happened next.

“Then you kissed me on the forehead and ran away.” Granger said. “There’s more. Look closer at the trellis.”

Claude did. His eyes traveled over the leaves and blooms and petals…

“…Ivy.” He realizes, the trellis was actually a combination of two plants. “Rose and ivy. If you’re going to say crap about the time _I_ was the one that fell—“

“Oh, love, I wouldn’t,” Granger said. “But you looked ethereal that night.”

“I fell several feet off a wall, covered in leaves and grime.” Claude complained. “How in the world did I look ethereal?”

Granger actually takes time to consider this question. “I don’t know,” He decides. “But seeing you on the ground, in front of me, almost challenging me with your glare… it made me curious about you. Like I wanted to know what would happen next.”

“I also wanted to know what would happen next,” Claude murmured. “And I wanted to see you again, so…”

“We really just shot at each other at first, didn’t we?”

“I missed on purpose, though.”

“Really? So did I.”

They grew quiet as they stared at the trellis, an unlikely combination, mirroring the couple. Claude turned to look at the musician instead, watching at how his eyes shifted and changed color, like paints blending. They were now closer to purple than blue, a strange shade for the eyes, but mesmerizing all the same. Claude also noticed that the scar was starting to appear on Granger’s eye again. He absentmindedly reached up to trace it. Granger’s breath hitched as he did so, eyes finally meeting Claude’s amber ones.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes were?” The thief said, smirking.

“Yes, you did, right before you kissed me,” Granger said, his gaze even. ”Wait—does this mean you want to kiss me again?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Claude whispered, moving closer to kiss the hunter—only to pull back when he heard a familiar chatter…

“Dexter!” He didn’t want to scold his friend, but _way_ to ruin a charged moment. “You couldn’t wait two more minutes?”

Dexter only barked at his master, which Claude translated to an apology. He stole a glance at Granger—the marksman’s face grew strangely serious and worried, as though Claude shouldn’t be talking to the monkey. That was ridiculous. Granger had seen him talk to Dexter a hundred times. He should be used to it by now…

What happened next was even more confusing. Dexter leapt up to land on a shoulder… Granger’s shoulder, not Claude’s. _What in the world?_

_I scold him once, and he decides to be my lover’s pet instead? Seriously…_

Dexter shifts on Granger’s shoulder, trying to not fall over the oversized metal spikes on Granger’s coat. He hands out something tiny and gold to the musician before baring his teeth at Claude in an unmistakable grin, then jumping off and away again.

“Hey! Buddy! Wait,” Claude tried to call the monkey back, but Dexter had already disappeared. ”I swear, that monkey sometimes gets on my nerves—“

Granger holds up the tiny object Dexter gave him. Small and circular and thin. A ring.

Claude stares at it, gobsmacked. His expression stays the same as Granger breaks away from him, kneeling on one foot. His eyes are almost back to their normal wine-red. And they are full of nervousness at what is happening.

“Granger…” Claude starts, then stops. He doesn’t know what to say or ask. Maybe he’s supposed to stay silent? He looks down at Granger, all handsomeness and tension in front of him.

“Claude.” The hunter only replies. “I’ve denied the truth for a long time. Now that I’ve admitted it, I’ve never felt so happy, so free. So loved.” He looks away from Claude, taking a deep breath, visibly wracked. The thief only finds it adorable, how Granger was trying his best despite his inexperience at confessing.

“I… I want to stay this way, with you, forever. And I don’t want it just for myself. I want to keep _you_ happy and loved.” Tears start to form at Granger’s eyes. “I want more nights of walking and talking and cuddling with you. More of our scuffles. More of how you tease me. More chances to make you laugh, because by the gods, you have the most amazing laugh.”

Claude couldn’t breathe, despite his heart beating faster and faster by the second.

“I want to come home into your arms every night and know that I am safe. I want to bring you to a million more places and see your face grow alight with wonder. I want more chances to bring you precious things than just this ring, more chances to remind you that the greatest treasures are always given, not stolen.” He laughs self-deprecatingly at that. “Can’t believe I just told a thief that. Was that offensive or…”

“No, I get it,” Claude says, his voice cracking with emotion. “Go on.”

“I want to face down dangers with you,” Granger continues, tears now flowing freely down his face. “I want to keep guarding this empire, knowing that I’m also guarding you. I want us to share a home, a home where you can keep Dexter and all your treasures and you can grow a rosebush of your own and I could play the violin for you. Which reminds me—I want more chances to write songs for you. More chances to compose melodies and sonatas that will remind you of how much I love you, and how much I’m grateful that you chose to love me back.

I want to wake up to your face next to mine in the morning, to look into your eyes and know everything is okay and that we are safe. I want to kiss you every morning and hold on to you every night. I want to do things with you,” his voice grows deeper. “Pleasurable, impure things. I want more chances to kiss and bite and grasp you, and make you feel weak and satisfied at the same time. But I also just want to keep you in my arms, soft and warm. More chances to hold you while you sleep. More chances to run my fingers through your hair as you fall asleep against me. More chances for you to steal a kiss from me, and not have to run away.

I want marry you, Claude. Every single annoying, aggravating, loving, caring part of you. And I suppose there’s only one last question left to ask.”

Granger’s eyes are now fully carmine, watery with tears. And yet, Claude has never seen the love engraved in them so clearly before. Another expression in his eyes that drives him mad with curiosity.

“Claude… will you marry me?”

Curiosity to find out what happens next, now that instead of letting him go, Granger seems intent on making him _stay_.

Was there ever any other answer?

Now _that’s_ one less thing to be curious about.

“ _Yes_. A million times, _yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i deadass made this entire epilogue during the release of the Lightborn cinematic, and was just an excuse to gush over their skins (that i can never afford). Back then I had this weird idea that skins were just like clothes that can magically change your appearance lmao. But then again, Silvanna did give them the skins... and they are magically blessed... so im sticking with that idea ahahah
> 
> tldr: THANKYOUUU
> 
> i need ig friends uwu @cheol_apple

**Author's Note:**

> (how is it that i only wrote this last november and i feel its already inaccurate of how i see graude now ahahah)
> 
> Comments would be well-appreciated~


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